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Dedication

To everyone who ever needed a second chance

one

An hour before closing time, a stranger walked into the Busy Bean.

Next to me, Lucy dumped coffee grounds in the compost bin. She bent over, flicking wet grounds off her fingers. “Hey, Babe, can you—”

“I’ve got it,” I said, grabbing my notepad from the counter, already on my way. The guy was cute. If our new seasonal waitress had been out here, she would have tried to get to him first.

The boy hovered awkwardly near one of the corner tables. He was tall and lithe, with mussed brown hair that was on the side of gold, and a blue polo that brought out his eyes.

“Is anywhere fine?”

“Yeah,” I said, gesturing to the available seating. “I can take your order here if you’re ready or you can just come up later, if you need a few minutes.”

Mystery Boy chose a table that came from a home and garden center, chipped stones in the mosaic face of a woman on the circular surface. The chair he sat on was wrought-iron and from a different patio set, the green seat plump and gleaming with the sheen of new leather.

He glanced at the chalk menu on the wall behind the counter. A smile bloomed over his face. “Nice art.”

I followed his gaze. Lucy alternated between neat capitals and loopy lettering to advertise the regular items and the day’s specials. Her daisy-chain border was in neon yellow, and some of the flowers had faces.

“Yeah, my friend’s a regular Matisse,” I joked.

The boy laughed, a rich, velvety sound, like the decadent filling inside a chocolate truffle.

I sensed eyes on the back of my neck, and I reached to rub the tingling patch of skin. I could practically feel Lucy’s interest.

I pulled a blunt-tipped pencil and notepad from my apron pocket. “What can I get for you?”

Lucy’s voice in my head went through a litany of the things I could give him. I squashed that voice. None of that was on our menu.